


Ink

by tigs



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-29
Updated: 2006-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-12 07:06:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2100165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigs/pseuds/tigs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In truth, Radek is not sure when it became habit, the drawing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [](http://visionshadows.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://visionshadows.livejournal.com/)**visionshadows** for the beta! All remaining mistakes are, of course, my own. (~1000 words)

It begins in grade three, when Radek is sitting at a too large desk, listening to his teacher discuss proper sentence structure—verbs, nouns, articles of agreement.

She is writing on the board at the front of the room, carefully forming each letter, sharp points and round curves, and Radek—even then Radek is far more fond of maths, of figuring out why a cup of water does not freeze if one puts salt into it. So he is doodling. He is detailing small cars racing up and down the lines of his binder paper. He is drawing stars in the white sky of the upper margin. He draws a whole universe worth, and still his teacher talks.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees that the girl sitting next to him—Petra—has her colored pens out, that she is drawing a flower on the back of her hand. Radek blinks, then feels inside of his desk for his own set of markers, pulling out the first that his fingers touch, and it is blue. He thinks blue and sky and clouds and the color of his next door neighbor's hair and the bike that he wants for his birthday and he draws, watching as the soft tip leaves trails of color on his skin.

*

In truth, Radek is not sure when it became habit, the drawing. What he does know is this: by the time he reaches grade eleven, he has cupfuls of pens on his desk at his house, another few in the front pocket of his backpack, and he always keeps a thin-tipped black marker in the front pocket of his shirt.

Most times he is not even aware that he has pulled it out of his pocket, uncapped it, that he is in fact drawing with it, until something captures his attention. Then he will start, look down, and notice the half-drawn maze of ink covering his knuckles, weaving in and out between his fingers, inching down towards his nails.

Sometimes at lunch, if she likes the design, Petra will pull out her own pen, re-ink in the image—quickly but carefully—and then she will press a piece of paper to his skin, using him as a stamp, her fingers soft against the palm of his hand.

*

In university, Radek still carries his pens.

As time passes, though, and requirements for his major take the place of general classes, he hardly notices as the stains on his fingers change from inked designs to spots from splashed chemicals to ballpoint pen smudges received through many hours of writing up results from his labs.

He does not notice that when he touches another's sweat-slick skin, first Petra's, then Lukas', then Mischa's and Tom's and Caitlin's, he no longer leaves smudges of color behind.

*

Habits, Radek knows though, do not ever really fade, because it is many years later now, and again he has a pen in his hand, the tip brushing lines over his skin. Again, it is an unconscious action, because he is sitting in Dr. Weir's office, Major Lorne by his side, the both of them looking out over the control room, and it is six hours past the time Rodney's team was supposed to check in.

He only notices because he glances over at Lorne and sees the other man watching him. After a moment, Lorne raises one eyebrow and attempts a smirk as he says, "Having fun, Doc?"

It is only then that Radek truly notices what he is doing. The pen is Dr. Weir's—Radek knows that it is, knows that he must have taken it from the cup of them on her desk, even if he does not remember doing so—and it is red. Already he has traced patterns down to his fingernails—the middle one has been colored in—and is working his way back towards his wrist. He sees a maze of swirls, a spiral extending outwards like a galaxy, and with that he drops the pen. It falls quietly to the floor, leaving a thin red line on the tile and he stares at it for a long moment.

It takes another moment for him to realize that his leg is now bouncing up and down, his breathing a little too tight in his chest, his fingers clenching into fists, and still Lorne is watching him. Carefully, closely. And then he is bending down, picking the pen up, saying, "Hey, hey, Doc. Here. You do what you need to do, alright?" He is holding the pen out to Radek now, a knowing look in his eyes, a look that only Radek gets to see, but before Radek can take it from him, speak, the Gate starts spinning.

"Unscheduled off-world activation," the Gate Tech calls, and this time Lorne is the one to almost drop the pen, his fingers going lax with the relief that Radek feels too. He bobbles it for an instant, then takes the cap off of Dr. Weir's desk and closes it up. He looks at Radek for a long moment, then sticks it in his pocket.

A breath later, Dr. Weir comes back into her office, a wide smile on her face. "Gentlemen," she says, and they stand, following her out to the balcony where they all stand together, watching Rodney and Colonel Sheppard and Teyla and Ronon arrive back home.

*

That night, Lorne holds Radek's hand still while he traces the design with the pen again—spiral, maze—from fingertip to watchband, then extends it farther still. The tip brushes against Radek's skin, the ink reflecting lamplight for just a moment before fading. The strokes are soft, short and steady and soothing, and as Radek watches, he sees that Lorne is biting at his lip in concentration.

It makes him want to lean forward, to distract Lorne. So he does.

Later, Radek presses the back of his hand to the skin at Lorne's hip, like a stamp to paper. Later, he traces the spirals, the smudged maze of color with his eyes, fingers, lips, and when he looks up, when their eyes meet, Lorne smiles.


End file.
